


Hope, and Other Fickle Things

by notcre8ive



Series: What Might've Been Lost [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Author Knows Nothing About Science And Is Just Making It Up, Buckle up because this is going to be Long, But Like... Endgame Didn't Happen Like That, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Injury Recovery, Iron Dad & Spider-Son, Paralysis, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Endgame, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, author is projecting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcre8ive/pseuds/notcre8ive
Summary: The truth is, nothing ever goes according to plan. Sometimes, though, that is a good thing.--Or, in the aftermath of a devastating attempt on Tony Stark's life, Peter Parker's friends and family must fight to help Peter recover from extreme trauma while also unraveling the mysterious circumstances surrounding the attack.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: What Might've Been Lost [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711111
Comments: 32
Kudos: 100





	1. Schrodinger's Spider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What up y'all, it's your girl K, back at it with the first chapter of the next installment of this story! WOOOOOOO
> 
> This is the second part of a series I'm writing called What Might've Been Lost. While you can read this as a stand-alone, you might want to read the first story (Making a Living Off Of Death) before reading this one. It will make a lot more sense, especially in later chapters. 
> 
> Without further ado, the first chapter of my new baby!

There is anxiety roiling in the pit of May Parker’s stomach. Its sources, according to the list in her journal that she made per her therapist’s suggestion, are:

\- Maybe we won’t get enough funding for the new shelter’s kitchen  
\- Too many people on the train this morning. Weird  
\- Drank too much caffeine this afternoon  
And the real kicker:  
\- Peter may choose a college out of state

Here she was, at a major fundraising event for her organization, and still her thoughts kept circling back to this: a home without Peter. She should be tending to donors, helping refill the paint cans that they were using to adorn the new shelter’s alley wall with a mural of a rainbow stretching across the skyline of Queens, but instead, she was holed up in the staff bathroom jotting down her worries in the hopes she would clear her mind of them. Or at least reduce the panic building in her.

The idea of Peter leaving frightened her. Sure, sometimes she would daydream about the beautiful home office his room would become, and of course she was excited for the future he was working so hard for, but most of the time she would just be thinking about how quiet it would be. And how she would have too many leftovers. And the way the smell would change. Everything would be different without him.

And what’s worse is that he’s at a big-shot science fair right now, probably winning an award and getting on a shortlist for every Ivy League and then some—there was no way he was staying in the city. He was too bright, too charming, too perfect. She had done too good of a job raising him, and in doing so had catapulted him out of her reach. It stung, that reality, but pride was a salve that dulled the pain in a way. _If he becomes a doctor,_ she thinks, _this may be forgivable._

These are the thoughts turning in her mind when she gets a call from Happy.

More emotions bubble up—excitement, comfort, nervousness—as she responds. “Hey Happy, he win anything good?”

“May,” the background noise is too quiet. At this point, they should be at a celebratory dinner. Happy should be shouting over the raucous of Julio’s. But the phoneline is clinically silent. 

“Is—is everything okay?”

“Are you still at the shelter?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sending a car to pick you up, it'll be there in ten minutes. Be ready to go. Something terrible has happened.”

\---

No list can contain the anxiety that possesses May on the drive to Stark Tower. It takes a good thirty minutes from the shelter in Queens, and from the Tower she is escorted to a helicopter that will take her to the Compound. The sterility of the staff she encounters—some slightly familiar, but mostly strangers—helps her keep it together; she’s sure if she met a friendly face at this moment she would self-destruct. Happy kept the details to the bare minimum in the phone call: a shooting, surgery, they weren’t sure how it was going to go. He saved Tony’s life. They had the best doctors. They would probably know more when she got there. “No matter what, we’ll get through this,” he had said, before quickly muttering an apology and hanging up. She hadn’t stopped trembling since.

She’s sitting in the helicopter, as she has been for about five minutes, and is about to ask what the holdup is when the airstrip lights catch auburn hair and a woman boards the aircraft, two small duffels in hand. Pepper Potts takes the seat beside her.

They had met once before, briefly at a fundraising function, and the only impression May had managed to get of her was “badass.” It was clear that her assessment was correct: now, in the dusky light of the landing strip, Pepper was a neatly groomed bastion of composure amidst the chaos. Once buckled in, Pepper turns to look at her. Pepper’s face is steady: vaguely concerned, but mostly determined. May instantly sees why Tony loves her: this woman is grace defined. May suddenly feels messy, still wearing the painting clothes she had on at the mural event and emotionally falling apart at the seams. She feels horrible, in every way. Pepper takes her hand. “We’ll take care of him.”

May chokes out a thank you through tears.

\-- 

The helicopter ride is short and May spends it thinking about all the promises she had been given that evening. Then they touch down and she all but sprints into the Compound, where a staff member greets her cordially and leads her to the medical wing.

In the waiting lounge she finds Happy in a stiff-looking chair, having forgone the cozier couches. His hands are clasped, elbows pressing into his knees, head bowed. He looks bereaved, and the sight causes her stomach to go cold. Even more disturbing is the lack of Tony. Where was he? How could he leave? Unless—

In lieu of following that train of thought, she busies her mind with Happy as he looks up at her, sighing. 

“Come have a seat.”

As he says that, Pepper strides into the room. “Where is Tony?” Her voice is a little breathless, and May has a half-thought along the lines of _She seems a little stressed out, too._

“He went to the bathroom in your suite,” Happy replies. “His turn to clean up.”

“Okay,” she says, performing an about-face and exiting as swiftly as she entered.

“Is he alive?” May has to know—her mind has been swimming with images of hurt Peter, dead Peter for almost an hour and she needs to be put out of her misery. 

Happy turns towards her, and she can see him visibly fighting to maintain eye contact with her. The act terrifies her even more, but relief floods her when he nods. “He’s still in surgery. Last thing they told us is that they managed to get the bleeding under control. They said maybe an hour more.”

“How long have you been here?” May asks.

“About an hour—I waited about fifteen minutes before calling you because I didn’t know what to say.”

She’s quiet for a moment, struggling with the same dilemma. What was there to say? How could she comfort him without blaming him? How could he assuage her sorrow without admitting fault? How could they move on from this at all, without everything their relationship had been founded on—safety, trust, _Peter_ —unravelling? And then she hears the voice of her therapist in her head: _When emotions complicate a situation too much, try to focus on the facts first._ Okay. That was something she could do.

She nods. “Okay. Do you need something to eat? You look pale. Let me go make something, I haven’t had dinner either—”

“May, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I can’t just sit here and wait, I'll go insane. The kitchen is close by, right? If they have news you can have FRIDAY alert me. You want a sandwich?”

“… Sure.”

“Good because it’s about the only thing I have the capacity to cook, even on a good day. And this is not one of those.”

“Okay May.”

She stands, and to her surprise, he stands with her and envelopes her in a hug before she can move towards the door. She hugs him back, tears stinging her eyes like sparks. She tries to remember that he is not a life raft and she is not drowning and that she can let go, and despite this reassurance, she still lingers in his arms for a little longer than either one of them expects. And then she lets go and heads down the hall.

\-- 

After circling the same block of offices and labs twice, May finally gets frustrated. “FRIDAY, where the hell is the kitchen?”

“Would you like the residential kitchen or the breakroom kitchen, ma’am?” 

“Uh…” She supposes the residential kitchen will have more sandwich fixings and fewer forgotten sack lunches, so she opts for that.

“Just a moment,” FRIDAY chirps. “Okay, Mr. Stark has granted you access. At the end of the corridor, take the elevator to the third floor. Proceed straight out of the elevator, and it will be the second entryway on your left.”

“Thank you.”

“Also, Mrs. Parker, Mr. Stark would like me to inform you that a room has been made available for you on the resident floor. It will be through the kitchen to the adjacent corridor, turn right, and the last door on the left. This is across the hall from Mr. Parker’s residence. You will find it has been made up for you, ma’am.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” May replied lamely.

She follows the AI’s instructions and finds the kitchen with ease, impressed by the subdued beauty of the space. Peter had told her that Tony had gone all out with the remodel after the facility had been destroyed in the final battle against Thanos, and he wasn’t wrong. The kitchen was clearly inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright, with ample skylights to allow natural light, banquette seating along the far wall, and the natural tones of wood and stone drawing the space together. There’s even a fireplace tucked into a small alcove in the corner, framed on each side with bookshelves, with two elegant cigar chairs facing it. She pictures Peter curled up in one of the chairs, reading after a long day of training with the Avengers. Or him raiding the pantry and leaving little for anyone else to eat. She thinks of all the meals he has had here over the past few years and feels pride for the boy she has raised. And then she remembers why she is here, and the awe vanishes. 

A vague whisper of curiosity remains, and she decides to seek out her room before making the sandwiches. If she has an hour, as Happy suggested, then she has plenty of time to wander. Through the kitchen, down the hall, and the last door on the left. She opens the door and is greeted by the faint smell of eucalyptus. “FRIDAY, why does it smell like a spa in here?”

“Ms. Potts lit a candle to make the room more soothing, it would seem. I can clear the room of the scent if you would like.” 

“Um, no, that’s okay. It’s nice.” And it _is_ nice. Just like the kitchen, the room is spacious and comforting. It has all the makings of a bedroom, with the luxury of a sitting area and desk next to another door, which May assumes leads to the en-suite. On the massive bed is a duffel that she recognizes as what Pepper had boarded the helicopter with. Inside, she finds several neatly folded shirts, a few sets of trousers, a thickly knitted cardigan, a toiletry kit, and a note: 

_Let me know what you like, I’ll have more sent over. I promise the pants are more comfortable than they look. -Pepper_

May sits heavily on the edge of the bed and rereads the note. The generosity the Starks had extended to Peter was always slightly embarrassing to her; as much as she wanted to reciprocate, there was little she could do in the face of their extreme wealth. Now, here she was, receiving the same attention, and she felt overwhelmed. But she also felt like she needed to clean up.

She gave herself ten minutes to refresh in the en-suite. Off came the paint-stained shelter shirt and blue jeans, opting for a velvety cream-colored sweater and forest green slacks (that felt, as promised, more like a pair of leggings than slacks). A brush went through her hair. She dabbed on some delicate smelling perfume she found in the toiletry kit, a firm believer that perfume made everyone feel a little more human. She put on deodorant. And then she stared at her face in the mirror for a minute.

She had always felt confronted when she stared at her reflection. Something about her expression always seemed to defy herself. Now, staring straight into her own eyes, she sought out the fear and anger that had been festering deep in her heart since she got the phone call just an hour ago. She sought it out like a dog after a rabbit, letting it play out across her face. Letting the tears that had sparked in her eyes earlier spill down her cheeks, leaving lava-hot rivers in their wake. She let herself feel it all, nearly going to her knees as tidal waves of fear and grief wracked her. And then she decides her time is up, and she washes her face, slides on the paint-splattered sneakers she had been wearing at the fundraiser, and goes to the kitchen to make some sandwiches.

\-- 

The kitchen has everything May needs to make Happy an indulgent ham and cheese, while she opts to make herself a tomato and avocado wrap. She’s placing everything back in the fridge when she turns around to find a red-headed woman sitting at the island, looking intently at her. The sight frightens May so much she nearly shouts, her hand coming up to her chest as she gasps. 

“Oh my God you scared me,” she says breathlessly. 

The woman smiles faintly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. You’re Peter’s aunt, right? May?”

May nods. The woman looks familiar, but she can’t place her. “And you’re…” 

“Sorry, I’m Wanda. I’m a friend of Peter’s. We train here together sometimes.” Her face falls. “I heard what happened. I am so sorry.”

May feels her brow begin to draw together and she fights to keep her expression neutral. Why is this girl sorry? Peter wasn’t dead yet. She doesn’t know what to say, so she simply mutters a thank you.

Wanda looks down at her hands. “You know, Peter is an amazing kid. I… this whole superhero thing has never been easy for me, but with him around he always made things feel a little less pessimistic. He’s kind of like a younger brother to me.” 

That’s when May realizes where she knows the woman’s face from: Wanda Maximoff, the hero that instigated the Sokovia Accords and had caused the deaths of dozens in Nigeria. May had seen her face a hundred times, and the explosion she had caused a hundred more. Staring at her now though, in the soft light of the kitchen, she seemed so innocent. So vulnerable. She could barely be older than Peter—mid-20s, maximum. May remembers how guilt and doubt had eaten her alive when she was in her twenties, and the most she’d had to worry about was getting Ben to propose to her. Here was this young woman, with such a grandiose sense of responsibility, and a matching guilt complex. She could see how Wanda and Peter would bond.

May realizes she’s been quiet for too long, but it doesn’t seem to disturb Wanda. “Can I help you take those plates downstairs?”

May nods. “If you’d like.” 

“Oh, and if this is for Happy,” Wanda says, walking over to the pantry and reaching inside, “he really likes these chips.”

\-- 

They find Happy in the same place as he was before, now with his glasses on, fidgeting with a tablet. Pepper sets his sandwich on the coffee table in front of him, then has a seat at his side. “What are you looking at?” 

“It’s the footage of the shooting.”

The air goes out of her. She has to set down her own plate.

“Can I see?”

Happy looks over at her, mouth agape. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea—” 

“Happy, please. I want to know what happened.” Tears are starting to swell in her eyes, and she tries to negotiate them back down. They had had their turn already.

He turns the tablet to face her and presses play.

Happy, Tony, and Peter are walking out of the high school. The footage is from a camera facing towards the parking lot so she can’t see their faces, but she can tell by their gate they’re all in good moods. The three of them could get like that sometimes, feeding off of one another’s energy until they were all giddy fools. Then, Peter’s body language changes. He thrusts himself in front of Tony and only a second passes where May can’t see him, then Tony is lowering him to the ground, and Happy is sprinting away, and the clip stops. May presses her palms to her eyes as the tears come on full force. She focuses on her breath, trying as best she can to breathe slowly and deeply. She feels Happy’s hand rubbing her back tentatively, and then more confidently as she relaxes under his touch. She still has her face covered when she hears a stony voice.

“He saved my life.” 

She looks up and makes eye contact with Tony Stark.

They say nothing more until the doctor comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright babes, what did you think? I love Aunt May a lot and my least fav trope in this fandom when is when people write her out or kill her off. She's, in my opinion, an uber complex character with a lot of depth and potential, so I am making it a goal to explore her relationships a lot in this series because I really think she deserves more love in the fandom. That woman is scrappy as hell and I will fight anyone who says otherwise.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my chatting. Who do you think the next chapter's POV will be? Leave me your guess in the comments!
> 
> **As always, come yell at me on tumblr @queenssunshine and let me know if you would be interested in beta-ing this project! I am still looking for someone, no experience needed, just enthusiasm :-)**
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. A Man of Flesh and Iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is trying not to fall apart, thank you very much. And he's doing a fairly good job, or at least he thinks so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! Wow, this took longer to post than I thought it would. A lot is happening rn (global pandemic, got a new job all the way across the country, holy s***) so I wasn't able to work on this as much as I wanted to. It didn't uhhh go like I thought it would but I'm happy enough to post it. PLEASE tell me what you think! The fanfic comment renaissance applies to us all!!!!

Tony finds himself crouched in front of his toilet, trying to grasp the events of the last hour. His memory is full of gaps, chunks of time lost to complete terror, as if his mind kept rebooting once it reached maximum capacity for panic. What he remembers is Peter bleeding out, Peter being silent, getting on the med evac, following Peter’s stretcher into the compound, and being stopped at the doors of the surgical suite by Dr. Cho. “We’ve got him from here. Tony, I need you to go calm down.”

He barely remembers the wait while Happy goes and changes clothes, and then it’s his turn, and the moment he catches his reflection in the mirror—a haggard man in a torn-up shirt with blood streaking up his forearms, both the human one and the metal one, a blue ribbon clenched in his hand— his stomach heaves. And that’s how he finds himself now, worshipping at the porcelain throne, wondering if his nausea will ever manifest into vomit or if he’s just putting his face in close proximity to toilet water for no reason. 

The door to the bathroom creaks gently open, and he turns to see Pepper. Her face falls at the sight of him—probably because _oops_ he’s covered in blood—and she kneels beside him and gently rubs his back. Quips ricochet through his brain, tone deaf jokes that he could make to dissolve the tension and let her know he was okay, but none make it past his throat. He inhales sharply, fully intending to use this breath reassure her, but rather than words of comfort, a sob escapes. Promptly, he falls apart.

His head drops into her chest as the guilt he’d been feeling transforms into sorrow, and he knows he’s making a lot of noise, but he also knows that Pepper does not, and will never, fear the strength of his emotions. She envelopes him in her arms, and he is distantly grateful to have such a judgeless partner. He waits until he feels he can speak again. “I lost him Pep. Oh, God, I lost him.”

“He’s not gone Tony.” He can hear tears in her voice. “He’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. Take a deep breath.”

He didn’t realize he was beginning to hyperventilate.

They sit there for a moment more while he reigns in his panic, and then she pulls him to his feet, flips the toilet seat down, and guides him to sit. Gently she removes his shredded shirt, then wets a washcloth with warm water and cleans his human hand and forearm surreptitiously. He watches her, the care she takes with his body, but it’s like watching her with someone else. He is detached from himself, floating away, even as she unlaces his shoes and removes them, then his socks. As she moves towards his pants, he stops her, the action reuniting him with his physical form. He’s ashamed that she already had to do as much as she did—he didn’t want to further burden her to undress him like a child. “It’s okay, I can get that.” 

She nods and sits back on her heels, searching his face. He can’t look at her, so genuinely concerned, so he lets his gaze wander around the bathroom.

“Mr. Stark, Mrs. Parker is requesting access to the residential wing.” Friday’s voice fills the bathroom.

“Granted, and let her know about the room too,” Pepper replies. Tony drops his head, reaching out his hand expectantly. Hers appears, tangling their fingers together, and he sighs. She is so perfect.

“Done.”

Pepper stands and kisses him atop the head, and as she leaves she swipes her hand into the shower and starts it running. She closes the door behind her.

Again, he faces himself in the mirror, now stripped down completely. Before when he had considered himself a monster, it was melodrama; he was always human, just with monstrous tendencies. Now, with his robotic arm, he felt more monstrous than ever. Surviving the Snap had nearly killed him and a brush that close with death had left him feeling heavier, burdened with some unknown weight. Pepper knew, Happy too—but to the rest of the world, he was now Tony Stark, savior of the universe. _What a load of shit,_ he thought as he detached the arm.

The hot shower refreshes him to a degree—at least reminds him that what he needs to get through this is not self-pity but the larger-than-life bravado that had guided him through countless other hopeless situations. Old coping methods die hard. He inhales the steam, closes his eyes, and when his mind tries to fill with images of Peter dead on the ground, he pushes it out, exhaling it away. 

Peter was going to survive. Tony would do anything to make sure that was true. And he was, after all, the savior of the universe. Who could defy him?

\-- 

They sit in the waiting lounge for what seems like forever. Happy looks distraught, trying to comfort May, who has barely looked up from the tile since she saw the footage. Tony’s eyes flit over to them frequently, trying to rise above the guilt he feels when he sees May. He finds himself staring at her shoes, paint-splotched sneakers. Pepper is at his side, calmly working away on her tablet—evidently, she too had taken time to recompose as he showered. Wanda is also there, curled up on the couch reading some book Tony had never heard of. When he’s not glancing over at May, he is trying to read the book summary and trying not to think of what’s going on in the surgical suite.

He’s about to resort to pacing when Cho enters the lounge. Everyone gets to their feet.

“He’s stable,” she says, and Tony and May both let out sighs of tension released. “But I think you should sit down.”

“Oh God, why?” May asks in a trembling voice as she lowers to the chair.

Cho looks down, clasping her tablet to her chest, clearly struggling with how to deliver this information, and Tony feels frustration begin to mount in his chest. “Peter’s spinal cord has been severely damaged by one of the bullets. It lodged into the C5 vertebra, which means he may never regain use of anything below his arms again.” She turns the tablet to them, an x-ray of a cervical column displayed on the screen. “The bullet did not fully sever the spinal cord and we assume that’s because of his enhanced durability, but as you can see here—” she indicates to a jumble of sharp white fragments, “—multiple vertebrae have been affected by the burst fracture of the C5, which means multiple injuries to the spinal cord. The damage goes all the way to his C2, and at that point, spinal cord damage begins to affect the patient’s ability to breathe on their own.

“Because one of his lungs was also perforated in the shooting, we had to perform a lobectomy to remove the damaged tissue and protect his respiration. We currently have him on a ventilator and…” Cho’s eyes lock with May’s. “I’m so sorry, but he’s not triggering the vent.”

“Well what does that mean?” May demands.

“It means that the damage to his spinal cord has disabled his respiratory muscles. We do see patients recover from this but it will be a long road if he is to—"

“What about—what about his healing factor?” Tony interrupts, no longer able to listen to her. “How does that play into this?”

“The truth is, we don’t know. Every injury with him is a new frontier, we really can’t predict—”

Tony rears up and he can feel the rest of the room shrink in response. “That’s not going to work. I need answers. I don’t care who you have to bring on, what you have to do, how much you have to spend, Cho, I need you to _figure this out._ ”

Cho’s eyes narrow defensively. “I’m trying to give you realistic expectations. I don’t want to give this news just as much as you don’t want to hear it, but this is the reality.” She sighs. “That said, I will reach out to some colleagues who are more familiar with SCIs and see what we can do.”

“Thank you,” Tony huffs.

May stands again. “When can we see him?” 

“Now, if you’d like.”

\--

Wanda excuses herself to her room with the promise that if anyone needs anything they can let her know, and with that the rest of them go to Peter’s room. The sight is worse than anything Tony’s mind had produced to torture him, because this was reality. 

Peter’s bed is raised so that it almost looked like he was sitting up, but the number of machines and tubes and wires surrounding him give him more the look of one of botched lab experiments rather than a teenager. Not a single part of his body is unmarred by medical equipment: a cervical collar supports his head and neck, leads are stuck to his chest, his hands are strapped into what looked like casts. His legs are wrapped in thick stockings to help regulate his blood pressure, a sight he recognizes from after Rhodey’s injury. The ventilator clicks and whirs as it assists his breathing through a tube in his mouth. Tony sits heavily in a chair at the foot of the bed, rubbing his mouth. “Shit, kid.”

May takes a seat next to the bed, taking Peter’s encased hand. “Hey, tiger. We’re here. We’re all here. You’re so brave and we love you—” her voice breaks “—and we need you to come back to us.” 

Happy takes up station behind May, still rubbing her back. He and Tony make eye contact and Tony feels an electric shock of shame streak through his chest that he knows Happy is feeling, too. The two of them had been there, should have protected Peter, should have prevented this. Happy shakes his head minutely as his focus shifts back to Peter and Tony watches as his eyes grow glassy. Tony glances to Pepper, who has stayed standing near the door, and then back to Happy, and realizes what needs to happen.

He rises and walks over to Happy, clasping his human hand on his shoulder. “You should get some rest; you’ve been running around all day. Have you even eaten, big guy? Can’t have you wasting away right now.”

“I— I’m okay, I’ll stay here for a bit—”

“Come on, let’s go eat that sandwich and let May have a moment with Peter.” He tightens his grip on Happy’s arm almost imperceptibly, and Happy nods, acquiescing. 

The two exit the room with Pepper parting in the opposite direction, citing a need to have a word with Dr. Cho. They plant themselves in the waiting room, Tony taking a deep breath to even himself, and as he opens his mouth—

Happy's phone rings. He glances at it, glances at Tony, and answers.

A beat of silence as Happy listens. "Yeah." Another beat. "Yeah, okay. Be right there." He hangs up and looks at Tony. "That was Rhodey, he said to meet him in the interrogation room immediately."

They hurry to the interrogation room on the basement floor, both striding so quickly the find themselves hiding their breathlessness as they swing open the door. A guard stands mute in the corner of the small, sparse room, and Rhodey is leaning on the table, arms crossed. Behind him is an unfamiliar man, chained to the table. “Tony, Happy, meet Devin,” Rhodey says. “He’s the man that shot Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, thoughts from the audience? Yup! It's a rough chap for our Petey and our Tony (and our everyone, really). But we're gonna make it through, sort of. Promise.
> 
> Please leave me a note below and come chat on Tumblr @queenssunshine!
> 
> Also I'm still hoping to find a beta, no experience needed, just enthusiasm!


	3. Damage Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your patience with this chapter. I am very excited to finally post it (and I'm posting it from my new home in New England, yay!).
> 
> All I can say is: please don't hate me.

Pepper Potts is rarely intimidated by anyone anymore. She has bartered with tech moguls, consorted with government officials, dined with celebrities, and is now bonded by child with one of the world’s richest men. It is not often that she feels unsteady in her dealings with others.

For some reason, Dr. Helen Cho still scares her. A little. 

The fact of the matter is that Pepper likes levity. Sure, she is far more serious than the average person, but she is, in comparison to the aforementioned officials she usually finds herself in the company of, one of the more jovial people she knows. She thinks this could have to do with Tony—years of exposure to his witticisms and humor had rubbed off. She loved opportunities to smile. She did her best to surround herself with staff who were similar, but Dr. Helen Cho was different. Anytime Pepper attempted to crack a joke, it was always met by a stony face with Dr. Cho. Sometimes, her lip tugged downward. That was always painful. Pepper was also deeply grateful to Helen for saving Tony’s life after the second snap, and quite frankly she wanted to befriend her, so the failed attempts at amiability left their relationship dry and uneasy.

This awkward dynamic is not currently a problem though, gratefully. Dread and fear has leached any humor out of Pepper, and as she takes a seat across from Dr. Cho in Cho’s office, she feels a sense of purpose, eerily similar to after Tony nearly died. Pepper is vicious when she has a job before her, and Dr. Cho is no different. It’s moments like these when they click like two gears in a machine.

“When you spoke to Tony about specialists, did you have someone in mind?” 

Helen nods, rotating her computer screen to face Pepper. “This is the list I made, but I have one person in particular in mind for this.” She navigates away from the list to a profile, listing the doctor’s awards and affiliations. 

Dr. Jason Bhatt-Gupta  
Traumatic Spinal Injury Specialist  
New York City Spinal Care Center – _Providing Low Cost Spinal Healthcare to New Yorkers since 1983_

“We worked together on the regenerative cradle briefly, when we were attempting to create nervous tissue, which is what the spinal cord is made of. Of course, we never did get it right before…” She looks up at Pepper. “Anyway. I will warn you; he is… principled. And prickly. I’ve already sent him a message with a rough description of the situation, but he said no.”

Pepper smiles slightly, already typing out an email on her tablet. It’s not to the doctor in question, but she has a strategy. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” Then she looks up at Helen. “How is the reconstruction of the cradle coming along?”

Helen is suddenly coy, and while Pepper hadn’t intended to make the other woman uncomfortable… well, maybe she had. She feels a spark of petty joy, in the same way she suspects Helen feels when she denies Pepper a laugh at her jokes. And then Pepper smothers it because it’s an ugly thing and she knows it. She shouldn’t punish Dr. Cho for not having a good sense of humor, nor for delaying the reconstruction of the cradle.

“It’s taking time. Half of my team is gone now so we’re having to recreate numerous lines of code and machinery. It’s tedious.” 

Pepper hears her response but she has a feeling something deeper is occurring. She had looked into the file back-up from U-GIN and while it was true that a great deal was lost, much of the regenerative cradle data had been maintained. Pepper suspects Cho has other reasons for delaying the process, but she decides not to prod.

“I’m no medical doctor, but I imagine the cradle would be immensely helpful in healing Peter. I know finishing it has…” She chooses her words carefully, “frightening implications, but I don’t think we have an option anymore.”

“I agree.” The words seamlessly follow Pepper’s statement, an exhibition of a quality Pepper has always admired about Cho: her decisiveness. “Get him for me,” she says, gesturing at the doctor on the screen, “and we might have a chance.”

\--

It’s the dead hours of the morning when Pepper finally finishes sending emails and moving money around. She had begun working in her office on the second floor, but after her foot fell asleep for the second time she decided to retire to the Stark apartment. It’s the only thing on the fourth floor, taking up only half of the building’s footprint to allow for skylights on the residential floor. Albeit cozily decorated, it’s only a sterile echo of their cabin home thirty miles away. She figures they won’t be going there again anytime soon and makes a note in her productivity app to alert the groundskeeper that they won’t be coming up this weekend.

Curled up on the couch, she taps out emails on her tablet, requesting and commanding and bending the sleeping world to her will before they even know it. All of her correspondences go unanswered except for one, but she’s not concerned. Her strategy is already in motion, and if all goes as planned, Cho’s coveted doctor will be theirs by noon that day. 

When she finishes, she begins to ready herself for bed, when she suddenly remembers something. “FRIDAY, where is Mr. Stark?” 

“He is currently engaged in the interrogation room with Mr. Hogan and Mr. Rhodes, and he is not taking alerts.”

Pepper decides to let that go. “And May Parker? Has she gone to bed?”

“She is still with Mr. Parker.”

That, Pepper doesn’t want to let go.

\--

May is listless, slumped in the recliner next to Peter’s bed. There is a nurse checking vitals, but even as the nurse passes between Peter and May, May’s gaze never breaks, unwaveringly locked on Peter’s pallid face. Pepper’s heart breaks to see her, red-eyed and clearly exhausted, and though she doesn’t know her well, Pepper pokes her head into the room. “Coffee or tea?”

May jolts as she looks up, as if startled out of a reverie. “Um. Tea, please.”

\--

Pepper returns, two mugs of chamomile in hand. The nurse has left. Pepper sits in the chair next to May and passes off her cup. They both sit in silence for a few moments, blowing and sipping at their beverages. Pepper wonders if May will be the one to speak first, but as it is becoming clear that she won’t, May surprises her and speaks up. “Thank you. For everything.” Her voice is water-logged, eyes still trained on Peter. “I feel so… insignificant right now. I can’t do anything for him. I don’t have money or connections or… anything. All I can do is just sit here. I can’t even give you anything back to thank you.” 

Pepper looks at the other woman and feels suddenly struck by their resemblance. It was as if she was looking into a cursed mirror at an alternative version of her life. Had past events gone only slightly differently she might have been in the same place as May: surrounded by the snubbed-out lives of her loved ones, only a child in jeopardy remaining. Had Tony not been saved in time after the Snap, had Morgan not been her rainbow baby, had she never begun working at Stark Industries in the first place—she could have been May. She shutters at the thought.

Pepper reaches out a hand and gently squeezes May’s arm. “You owe us nothing. You have given us the joy of Peter for years now. The way you have shared him with us, and trusted him with us, we're so grateful. And I know that can’t be easy given our... lifestyle. As for what you can do for Peter, I think we all know when he wakes up, you’re the first person he will want to see. You’ve already done for him more than any of us could dream of doing.”

May takes a deep breath, tears rising in her eyes. She sniffs. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” 

Pepper grins wryly, “You should have seen me after Tony’s amputation. Most of the medical staff here still won’t look me in the eye, I scared everyone that bad.”

May chuckles humorlessly, tears caught in the exhales. Finally, she breaks her gaze at Peter and looks at Pepper. “Thank you.”

Pepper wants to hug her but instead just squeezes her arm again. And then they sit quietly together, letting the mechanical sounds of Peter’s life fill the room.

\--

Around five in the morning May drifts off, still in the reclining chair. Pepper has a blanket brought for her and decides to sleep herself. When she gets to the apartment, Tony is asleep on the couch, a hologram of the shooting footage still projecting upwards from the tablet on his chest. She caves to her romantic instincts and kisses him on the head as she passes, and he rouses briefly enough for her to coerce him into bed. They fall asleep together, cradling each other, and from 6AM to 10AM, Pepper fitfully rests.

\--

And then, at 10:15AM, FRIDAY wakes her. “Dr. Bhatt-Gupta is on his way, ma’am, expected time of arrival is 11:30AM.”

Tony is gone from the bed already and she sighs at the realization. “Where is Tony this time?”

“In Mr. Parker’s room—that is, his room on the residential floor, ma’am.”

This piques Pepper’s interest enough to send her down the elevator then down the hall, clad in her willowy pajamas. Peter’s door is ajar when she arrives at the end of the corridor. Tony is inside, back to the door, scrounging around under the bed, head nearly completely under the frame.

“What are you doing?” she asks. There’s a clang as Tony starts, and a few muttered cuss words as he extracts himself and turns to look at her, rubbing his head.

“He’s got a stupid figurine up here— he was telling me about it the other day, how some guy was selling it for hundreds of dollars less than its worth and he bought it off him—some Star Wars thing. I was going to bring it down to his room with his blanket.” The blanket he is referring to is a raggedy thing Wanda had knitted in a fit of boredom and creativity. She made maybe four items before abandoning the hobby, but Peter had loved the blanket despite how rough it was. 

Pepper takes a sweeping glance of the room and immediately spots it on the desk. “This?” she says, holding up an oddly shaped blue figurine. It’s a dog-like alien with a human body and blue jumpsuit, just one sharp tooth protruding from his underbite.

“That’s not even in Star Wars,” Tony says, deadpan. “I have seen those movies too many times with that kid. That’s not a Star Wars character.”

“If,” Pepper passes off the figurine to her husband, who is still sitting on the ground, “you had asked him why it was so expensive, he would have told you that this figurine is an inaccurate portrayal of a character called Snaggletooth. It was discontinued after they realized the mistake. He’s supposed to be short and red.” She thinks about saying _“Like you”_ to tease him a bit but she’s having a hard time reading his mental state. He seems okay, but she doesn’t buy it.

He turns the action figure over in his hands, taking in its mediocrity. “Five hundred bucks for this thing. Huh.” He looks up at her. “Am I just completely disconnected from the value of money or is that too much?” 

She smiles slightly. “It’s way too much. Anyway, I need to go get ready. I am going to interrogate you later about what you were up to last night but I have an appointment this morning.” She offers him a hand and hauls him to his feet.

Kissing her on the cheek, he responds, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

\--

She meets Dr. Bhatt-Gupta in an empty med-tech lab on the second floor, where she purposefully had him deposited, and purposefully let him sit for ten minutes. She had hoped he would wander around, maybe get inspired by the work they were doing, but when she enters, he is seated at the only empty table in the room, scrolling through his phone.

“Hi, Dr. Bhatt-Gupta. Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Pepper Potts.”

“Look, Mrs. Potts, I appreciate your flying me out here but I’m going to save you some time: I’m not at all interested in this project.”

Pepper takes a seat at the table across from him, sliding a folder across the distance between them. “I’m quite impressed by your resumé,” she says, ignoring his statement. “Taft bred, MIT educated, medical school at Stanford. You’re really something.” She looks up at him, smiling. “My dad always wanted me to go to Stanford, in fact, so you could say I’m a bit jealous.”

Dr. Bhatt-Gupta is clearly uninterested in her flattery, instead twirling the gold band on his left ring finger and staring at the door. He’s deliberating, but she knows it’s not any sort of compromise she’ll be pleased with. Pepper gets the sudden impression that they’re both ignoring each other, a calculated conversation in which neither side hears a thing beyond their own voice. She feels a spark of anxiety, knowing Peter’s life depends on this man, knowing her family’s fate is reliant on her being able to win this doctor over. Pepper knows the look in his eyes: it’s a man who underestimates her.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Dr. Bhatt-Gupta now turns his eyes to her, a hint of a glare evident. “I do not tolerate what Stark Industries stands for. I know you’re going to offer me a large sum of money, but I insist I’m not interested in that. What Dr. Cho and I were working on—I thought that was for good.” He leans forward, poised like a scorpion ready to strike. “I realize now that I was wrong. And I will not sell out again.”

Annoyance flairs in Pepper’s heart. _Ma’am. Sell out._ As if everything she had done to correct the course of Stark Industries meant nothing. As if she is some useless, corrupted corporate goonie.

If he doesn’t want pleasantries, that’s fine, she won’t give them.

She smiles sweetly and leans across the table, flipping open the file he had neglected. On the first page is a list of donors to the New York City Spinal Care Center. The second page is a copy of the Stark Industries bank statement from that morning. “I think you would be thrilled to find out we already pay your checks.” Pepper gives it a moment to sink in, watching his eyes flicker down to the file. “If you take a look at the list of donors to NYCSCC, you’ll find that Stark Industries became a platinum donor approximately… twelve hours ago. We’re also upgrading the building and adding three levels, my architect will be out there Monday morning. But that’s beside the point.” She closes the file, retracting it. “You work for me no matter what now. So work for me here.”

He takes a deep breath, straightening in his chair. He looks her in the eye and Pepper can feel the battle of wills. She can also feel herself winning.

Finally, he leans back in the chair, disarmed. “So, what, are we trying to create another supercomputer with aspirations for world domination?”

“I think some key details were left out of your briefing. There’s a young man that needs your help, and I suspect you already know of him.” Pepper procures a page from the file and a pen from her tablet portfolio, offering them to him. “I just need you to sign this NDA first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, we don't get the interrogation scene yet! Boo! But I am going to get to it... eventually. But I just really had to write Pepper. I LOVE Pepper. She's got this incredible composure in most situations, but when we see her with Tony, Rhodey, and Happy, she's so raw and beautiful. She's a very intricate character and I hope I was able to do her justice. I'm hoping to dedicate a lot of time to less appreciated characters in this series (which means a lot of characterization research on my part YIKES) and I hope that they don't read OOC or anything.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope to see you in the next chapter!


End file.
